


drizzle

by alfredolover119



Series: tumblr requests [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Draco is conflicted, Harry has a saving people thing, M/M, Pre-Relationship, as we know, enemies to reluctant friends idk, spoiler alert lucius is DEAD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25799332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alfredolover119/pseuds/alfredolover119
Summary: Draco Malfoy was sitting in the courtyard, pale hair disheveled in a very un-Malfoylike way. His face was turned away from the building, but Harry would recognize the git from any angle. Harry stared for a moment before making some internal decision. He grumbled as he rolled out of bed into his slippers and robe. He threw on an overcoat before dashing out the door.for the tumblr prompt, “You’re not sober.” “Please, I haven’t been sober since sophomore year in high school. This is just the first time you’ve seen me drunk.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: tumblr requests [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713538
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	drizzle

**Author's Note:**

> ay i havent written drarry in months and i wrote most of this in one night with no other thoughts! though i guess i plotted it out in april

Harry Potter deserved a break. He wasn’t even asking for much, just one night of sleep. Practice had been excruciating that day. The downpour was torrential, but Wood insisted they could still practice. It lasted for three hours before he had finally agreed to practice on another day.

So now Harry was trying to sleep. Ron wasn’t back yet, probably over at ‘Mione’s place. It was nice, not hearing his stupidly loud snoring. It should have been easy to just fall asleep, but the cold rain from earlier had seeped into his bones. On top of that, his bed was right next to the window. The stupid streetlight was in his eyes, and the window itself did nothing to keep the frosty weather outside from entering. It was there he lay, tossing and turning, when he saw him.

Draco Malfoy was sitting in the courtyard, pale hair disheveled in a very un-Malfoylike way. His face was turned away from the building, but Harry would recognize the git from any angle. Harry stared for a moment before making some internal decision. He grumbled as he rolled out of bed into his slippers and robe. He threw on an overcoat before dashing out the door. 

He tried to keep his gait steady and quiet, but excitement and fear and _something_ made it difficult. Malfoy was, obviously, up to something. Harry knew he should be careful; this was probably a trap. Scratch "probably," this was _definitely_ a trap. Malfoy sitting out in the freezing rain looking pitiful and sad? It was crazy how obvious he was being.

He stopped in the corner of the courtyard. The drizzle was slowing now, but the temperature seemed to be dropping still. The grand scheme of this plot was probably just to get Harry sick so he couldn't play in the next match. Malfoy was set to be Harry's replacement, after all. An understudy of sorts. The only thing that didn't add up was that Malfoy would _also_ get sick, sitting out here. 

Harry just stood there for a bit, watching Malfoy, who remained unmoving. He had a side view of him now, but he was still too far away to see his face clearly. He'd forgotten his glasses, and he was ridiculously near-sighted. 

He didn't need glasses to hear, though. Malfoy suddenly called out, “Are you even _trying_ to hide?” 

Harry jumped a bit, and Malfoy snickered. It all would have been normal, but Malfoy’s voice was rough and cracked. Harry continued walking forward. He expected the git to yell at him or make fun of his slippers, but he remained relatively silent.

Harry stopped about five feet away. Malfoy was whispering to himself under his breath, interrupted by a hiccup every few seconds. He was crying. _Draco Malfoy_ was crying. 

That was the moment Harry knew coming out here was a mistake. Sure, Malfoy might be awful and evil and such, but any compassionate person would understand that Malfoy was, obviously, upset. That meant whatever Harry did, he needed to tread lightly. Not necessarily because he cared about Malfoy’s feelings, but he didn’t want to be a dick. He debated on just going back inside and letting Malfoy continue his quest to contract pneumonia, but then there was eye contact and Harry knew he was utterly, thoroughly fucked.

He let himself absorb the other boy. _Boy,_ because that’s what he was. They were both only nineteen, after all. It was accentuated then, though. Malfoy’s white button-down was soaked and stuck to his body. He wasn’t wearing a coat, and his feet were basically in a puddle. To get poetic, he looked like he was drowning in his own misery. Harry would have been shivering if he were in Malfoy’s situation, but he was almost entirely still, save for the soft drumming of his foot against the wet concrete.

“Have a seat, _Potty.”_

Harry sighed before taking a cautious step forward to sit next to Malfoy. There was still about a foot between them on the stone bench, but it took a lot out of Harry to not sit closer. Malfoy just looked so… cold. 

“Are you okay, Malfoy?” Harry broke the almost-silence. 

Malfoy released a bitter laugh. “I don’t know, _Potty,_ if your father had just died in prison, would you be okay?”   
  
Harry’s eyes widened, probably comically. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, and Malfoy continued.

“Would you be okay if you never returned a single one of his letters or calls, and you hadn’t talked to him or seen him in _years,”_ Malfoy stood up, “and you burned every letter he ever sent you and you thought there would be time for it later, but then he dies in a fucking escape attempt?” He took a step towards Harry. “Would you be okay?” Closer. “Do I _look_ okay?”

Harry had no idea what to do. He was trying to figure out what to say, trying to figure out what was happening. This wasn’t Malfoy. Was it? The last minute had contradicted everything Harry thought he knew about Malfoy. Malfoy didn’t have emotions. He didn’t cry. He didn’t vent to Harry. Hell, he didn’t even _talk_ to Harry.

“Oh, wait…” Malfoy swayed on his feet, grasping onto Harry's shoulder for balance. “You wouldn’t know anything about the- the _connection_ one has with his parents…”

It clicked.

 **“You’re not sober.”** Harry stood, pushing Malfoy back onto the bench. Malfoy’s grip on Harry’s shoulder slid down to his wrist. Harry tried to look him in the eye, but he kept his eyes closed.

 **“Please,”** Malfoy said, head tilted, **“** **I haven't been sober since sophomore year in high school. This is just the first time you've seen me** **_drunk._ ** **"**

Harry knelt down in front of Malfoy. “Is that when your dad… y’know.”

Malfoy peeked one eye open appraisingly before lifting his feet onto the bench, fully laying down. “Sure. _Y’know.”_

Harry _almost_ regretted his decision to not leave earlier.

“Malfoy, you can’t stay out here all night. It’s November. And it’s raining.” He stood, grabbing the hand Malfoy still had on his arm and pulling. He expected more of a fight, but Malfoy complied almost instantly.

Harry wasn’t exactly sure of what he was to do now. Malfoy lived off campus, and Harry didn’t have a car. He only had one idea, and it relied on Ron staying gone all night. 

He ushered Malfoy towards the dorms. His stride was surprisingly steady for a drunk. 

Malfoy yanked his arm out of Harry’s grasp after a moment. “I can walk on my own, you know.”   
  
Harry just hummed in response.

Once they reached the room, Malfoy apparently realized where they were. “This was your plan all along. Let me spill my heart out to you, then you bring me back to your room. Is this your idea of a date, Harry?”

Harry laughed, and it scared him a bit. Laughing at one of Malfoy’s jokes. It seemed almost... friendly. “I’ll get you some dry clothes.” 

He retrieved some sweatpants and a t-shirt from his dresser, but when he turned back, Malfoy had collapsed onto his bed. Harry threw a blanket over him before turning off the light and laying down in Ron’s bed.

It was strange, listening to Malfoy’s breathing. He was quiet, almost silent. He knew the next morning might be weird, so the calm was appreciated. His last thought before drifting into unconsciousness was that Malfoy had called him “Harry” instead of “Potter.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments and kudos fuel me,, or you can follow me on tumblr @ whatsshakingbanana


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